


Saved

by EllieRose101



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-it, Episode: s06e19 Seeing Red, F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: “I don’t trust you enough for it to be love.”Some words can be treacherous, but some others can save a great deal of heartache. (A retelling of Seeing Red’s infamous Bathroom Scene with one key difference.)
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was difficult for me to write. Obviously it deals with highly sensitive topics* and, as such, it won’t be comfortable reading to begin with, but if you’ll stick with the story into parts two and three it will become clear what I’m doing. If I do my job right, you won’t be left feeling traumatized by the end. Thank you to everyone who reads, I see it as you trusting me to appropriately deal with the issues this fic raises. I hope not to let you down or do any of the characters a disservice. 
> 
> *trigger warnings for violence and attempted rape are in place – though nothing is graphic.

There was nothing Buffy wanted more than a long, hot bath. Well, maybe a Tylenol.

She wasn’t sure if she ached more from her run-in at Nerd Central, her run-in with the vamp who just couldn’t go quietly, from the flashes of images from the previous night’s inadvertent web-show that kept looping around in her head, the close-up mental images of Spike’s and Xander’s expressions from the ensuing not-quite-an-argument, or the whole actual argument she had with Xander earlier in the day that had been months in the making – at least on her end.

Too much had happened and Buffy found herself just wanting it all to stop, and not for the first time. Same as always, she shoved the all too tempting thought away.

Spike entered the bathroom behind her and she was grateful for the temporary distraction from her patchwork of pain, annoyed that he had the ability to soothe her, and hurt all the more that he’d likely drive everything she was already feeling deeper, in the long run.

In a particularly weak moment, she found herself ready to collapse into his arms and declare that it was all too much and that she couldn’t fight any of it anymore. She shoved that urge down with the rest as he circled her.

“Hurt, are you? Not moving so well.”

Buffy turned away from him and walked the few short steps to the sink, not allowing herself to look at him.

“Get out,” she said, her voice betraying her supreme tiredness. It was a stronger rebuff than her usual ‘go away’ but she didn’t think for one second that he’d actually listen to her.

“Look, I’m only trying to–” Spike began again, only to pause and rewind. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t,” said Buffy, the lie burning the back of her throat.

“Well, this isn’t just about you,” replied Spike, “Much as you’d like it to be.”

Buffy sighed and looked up at him, knowing there was no point fighting that particular urge with herself. “Can we not do this?”

“We’re gonna have to, sooner or later.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Not here, not now.”

Spike half-turned to the door, then pivoted back on his heal. “I can’t leave it like this.”

Resisting the urge to point out that he was making it all about _himself_ , now, Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and waited. He really did have the worst timing. She looked like hell, had barely a thing on, and her bath water was getting cold. Not sure if she’d paid the heating bill or not, she hoped she could run another one without getting cut off.

“Make it quick,” she said after a minute.

\---

Feeling bad about their fight on top of all the other badness he was marinating in, Xander walked to Buffy’s house hoping they could try again to talk about things civilly.

When he’d left his apartment, abandoning the previous attempt, he’d gone instinctively to the Magic Box, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in. Seeing Anya just through the window was pain enough. So he’d circled and circled, the circles getting ever tighter as he replayed the conversation over in his head.

Buffy would probably hate him, but he wished he’d gone through with it.

\---

“You should have let him kill me,” said Spike.

“I couldn't do that.”

“Why?”

Buffy steadied her gaze on the chipped nail polish of her toes. “You know why.”

“Because you love me.”

“I don’t.”

Spike ground his teeth. “Why do you keep lying to yourself?”

She sighed and pulled her robe more tightly closed. “I feel something for you, okay? I do, but it’s not love. I don’t trust you enough for it to be love.”

“Trust,” Spike repeated, the word like filth in his mouth. “Buffy, that’s all I’ve been trying to–” he broke off, shaking his head. “You never got it.”

Buffy bristled. “I know what trust is.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Do you? When’s the last time you got any or gave it?” he spat, before clenching his fists and taking a breath. “Nevermind. We can get to that later. I came to say sorry. Probably doesn’t count for much, but…” he paused, then lowered his voice. “I didn’t go to Anya for that.”

“For what, then?” Buffy couldn’t help but ask. The question was out of her mouth before she finished thinking it.

“I wanted–” He closed his eyes as if dredging up the confession physically hurt him. “I went for a spell.”

The knife in Buffy’s gut twisted but she forced herself not to flinch. “You were going to use a spell on me,” she exclaimed, not sure if it was a question or not. Bile started to swirl around the fresh wound in her gut at the thought of yet more people screwing with her head.

“God, no,” said Spike, to his disgust and her relief. She believed him instantly – sincerity was all over his face – and it earned him a couple more seconds before she didn’t give him a choice in whether to leave or not.

“I wanted one for me. To help me stop….” He hesitated again before ripping the word “… _feeling_ ” from his lips. Buffy was pretty sure she’d never seen him so tortured, and that included all the literal times she’d done so. Like when Glory had hurt him, or when she’d– She shook her head, dismissing the thought.

“I know you feel like I do,” Spike continued. “You don't have to hide it anymore.”

“Stop this,” said Buffy, sighing. “Why do we have to keep going over–”

“Let yourself feel it,” Spike insisted, cutting her off.

He moved forward and she smacked him away again.

“Buffy–”

“No.”

\---

Xander tried the door handle of Revello Drive and found it unlocked. He let himself in and started to look around for signs of who might be home when his eyes caught on the sight of Spike’s duster hung over the Newel Post.

Anger filling him once more, he began to climb the stairs.

\---

Spike reached for Buffy and she moved to evade his hands but was stopped by a spasm in her back. Before she knew it, they were on the ground, wrestling.

It was the first time she’d truly been afraid of him, and that knowledge scared her more than anything. Everything blurred so much, she thought there might be tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t think clearly enough to be sure.

Spike was wild, his eyes feral as they bore into hers. Some instinctual part of Buffy screamed at him the one thing she knew would get him to stop.

“Angel!” she cried, as Xander threw open the bathroom door.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy was only vaguely aware of Xander coming into the room as time stopped. Spike’s feral eyes widened and lost all hint of malice the moment she’d uttered Angel’s name. Scrambling away from her until his back was tight against the bathtub, his hands went to his hair before snapping to his sides, long fingers scratching at his palms.

Xander stepped further into the room, following his retreat, and Buffy turned on him.

“Get out!” she screeched, her voice raw.

Xander started, his eyes leaving Spike’s to find hers. “Buffy?”

“Get out!” she screamed again, heat flooding her cheeks. There was no doubt about it now, there were definite tears escaping her.

Without further hesitation, Xander went back to the door. Spike got up as if he was about to bolt, but Buffy snapped at him to stay, the way an owner spoke to a dog. Like Xander, he didn’t question the command, only followed it.

Legs shaking, Buffy got to her feet and braced a hand against her back before using the other hand to swipe across her face. In the space of a moment, she stopped crying and set her posture in a hard line before exiting the room to talk to Xander.

\---

As he sat there on the cold bathroom floor, Spike saw the whole scene again.

He was panting right along with her until he realized that there was a slight unevenness to her breath. He stopped his so he could listen closer, his head tilted.

Buffy slapped him and his eyes turned hard.

“What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You were doing it again!”

“I’m not allowed to look at you?”

“No!”

Spike heaved a sigh then began hunting around for wherever his cigarettes had ended up in the tussle. While he was pointedly not looking at her, he asked Buffy, “Did I hurt you?”

She made a scoffing noise, but he waited. A minute later she admitted, her voice small; far away, “I might be winded a little.”

Spike winced but held back the ‘sorry, pet’ that instinctively rose to his lips. That would get him slapped again, most likely.

“You shoulda said if it was too much for you.”

“Shut up,” she replied, ever the broken record.

“I’m serious. Know you can take a lot, but you’re not invincible, Slayer. And despite what you think, I don’t actually want to hurt you.”

She pushed past him in answer, hurriedly picking up her clothes.

“What about a safe word?” he suggested, not ready to give up.

Buffy turned on her heel to face him. “What?”

\---

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I–? Buffy, what is Spike doing here? He was about to–”

Buffy held up a hand. “I’m not talking about him. Why are you in my house?”

Xander set his jaw. “Gee, way to treat a guy who just saved you from being–”

“You didn’t save me from anything,” said Buffy, not letting him finish. “You don’t know anything about me and Spike.”

“You’re seriously gonna tell me that was–”

“We are not talking about it,” Buffy reiterated, a bite in her words. “Not here, not now. If I decide to share, fine. Don’t bring it up again.”

“But Buffy–”

She glared at him until he closed his mouth again, but not for long.

“Fine,” he spat. “But if this bites you in the ass, that’s down to you.”

“Don’t you dare!” said Buffy, fighting the urge to lash out physically. If her body hurt before, it would definitely need serious attention now. She tried not to think about it, but knew she couldn't stay out in her hallway talking for long.

Taking a breath, she said, “Nevermind. We can talk about this later,” realizing belatedly that she was echoing Spike’s words.

\---

“A safe word,” he’d repeated, adding, “You know, a word to keep you safe?” when Buffy’s features clouded.

A moment later, her hands went to her hips. “Why do we need one of those?”

Spike raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t I just explain that part?”

“No, dummy. I know what it is. Why do we need one?”

“For next time.”

“There’ll be no next time.”

Spike sighed. “Right, of course.”

“There won’t!” insisted Buffy.

“Whatever you say, princess. Shall I remind you of that next time you come knocking my door down, putting your hot little hands all over my body?”

Buffy looked down then jumped into action again, the glance at her own body no doubt having reminded her she had still to get dressed.

“Safe words aren't really about keeping things tame,” said Spike, conversationally, as if the pause for bickering hadn’t happened. “They can really help you let go.”

“How does that even work?” asked Buffy, pausing in her task again.

“Well, it’s a failsafe, right? Err….” He looked around, trying to find the right word for it, his eyes finally landing on his cigarette packet. He snatched them up and put one between his lips, thinking as he took a long drag. “Say it’s the limit. You know if you haven’t reached it – if the other person hasn’t said the word – all’s well and you can carry on.”

Buffy continued to look at him dubiously, so he tried for a demonstration, reaching for her.

\---

Buffy and Xander stood looking at each other. She’d ended the conversation, but he seemed unwilling to go.

“Later,” said Buffy, her voice now soft. “Please?”

He gave a nod, though clearly he wasn’t happy about it. When he opened his mouth, Buffy preemptively said, “I can handle Spike. It’ll be okay.”

Xander clenched his jaw and went down the stairs more loudly than was really necessary. Buffy flinched when the front door slammed, the pain hitting her twice as it made her back spasm again. She breathed through it, then let her muscles unwind. She was practically sagging as she re-entered the bathroom.

\---

“Spike, don’t,” said Buffy, despite the need in her voice.

“See,” said Spike, “Saying that while responding as you do is dangerous. How’s a bloke supposed to know what you want?”

Buffy shoved him away. “How about you listen?”

Spike shook his head. “Listen to your body, or your mouth? Even you gotta admit they ain’t often in agreement.”

Buffy crossed her arms, clearly unwilling to agree to any such thing.

“Anyway,” continued Spike, “Point is, if you have a defined word, it takes the mystery out. Anything after that point’s a no-go. Anything up to it, however…” he trailed off, his eyes taking on a seductive glint. “Fair game.”

“I can’t believe I’m being lectured about safety by William the Bloody.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Clearly, you need the education. You’re still not getting it.”

“Whatever, Spike,” said Buffy, finally locating her pants and putting them on. The next few moments passed in silence, with him just watching her, before she asked, “What’s yours, anyway?”

“How’sat?” said Spike, blinking. He’d been totally zoned out, focusing on Buffy’s… outfit. “Err,” he cleared his throat. “What?”

“Your safe word, what is it?”

His eyes focused. “Oh, it's Angel.”

Buffy looked bewildered. “Seriously?”

Spike shrugged. “Yeah, well, the great sod’s name always did have a habit of turning me off.”

“Dru probably said it a lot, huh?”

Spike winced at the reminder. “Nothing put a stop to things quicker.”

“Hmm,” said Buffy, letting the conversation drop again. “Well, I gotta….” She hesitated, pointing to the door.

Spike waved a hand dismissively. “Bit late for pleasantries now. You’ll think on what I said though, won’t you?”

“Won’t need to,” said Buffy, walking out of the crypt and into the sun.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy swallowed, turned the door handle to the bathroom, and slowly pushed it open.

Spike still had his back to the bathtub, his arms and legs pulled tightly to his chest. His eyes shot to Buffy’s, then skittered away again.

He’d been crying.

“Buffy,” he said, his voice thick. “I shouldn’t… I didn’t–” Trailing off, and still avoiding eye contact, he got to his feet. “I should go.”

“No.”

He stopped, mid-movement, and held himself rigid.

“Stay,” said Buffy, the word coming out so differently than before – no longer a command, but a plea. It was almost a new word entirely.

Spike didn't move.

Buffy sighed and shut the door behind her, leaning her weight on it. They stood in silence for a minute, until even that was too much and she slid down the wood paneling to the floor. Only then did Spike sit down again properly himself.

“Wanted to do it yourself, then?” he asked, finally. Adding, “I heard you tell Xander to go,” a moment later, when Buffy didn’t reply.

“You think I’m gonna stake you?” she exclaimed, realizing what he meant.

He opened his mouth and shut it again, not able to find words.

“Spike, I’m not going to kill you.”

After letting out a hysterical little laugh, he said, “You should,” and clenched his fists. “I should walk out into the sun.”

“No,” Buffy said again, and he looked at her.

“Too good for me, eh? Probably right.”

“Stop it,” Buffy demanded, heat returning to her voice. “I’m not going to comfort you, or tell you you’re worth saving. Right now, I’m not exactly feeling it. Just don't, okay?”

Eyes clouded, Spike tilted his head for moment, then gave a single nod.

“What did you come here for?” Buffy asked, when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else.

“To talk.”

“Why? Why now?”

“Dawn,” he answered, the name catching in his throat a little. “She visited, told me you had seen… and I’d hurt you.”

“You never wanted to hurt me,” said Buffy, recollecting.

Spike flinched. “Did though, didn’t I?” he said, holding up his hands. “Not looking for sympathy. How could I, when–? And you–” He shook his head.

“Spike, listen. I’m tired. _So_ tired, and hurt. I just want to have a bath and go to sleep. Will you promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

The hysteric laugh returned in a bark. “Bit late for that.”

Buffy ground her teeth. “Promise me.”

The faux-mirth fell from his face. “Buffy, I almost–”

“But you didn’t. You stopped.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, throwing his head back to hit it off the wall as more tears fell. “It doesn’t excuse–”

“I know. God, if there’s anyone you don’t have to explain that to….” She shook her head and tried again. “I’m not excusing it, but you did stop, and that’s not nothing. The whole–” She swallowed. “The safe word thing. I understand it now. You were right.”

“Right,” repeated Spike. “Buffy, I’ve never been _right_.”

She frowned at him, then stood up and offered him a hand.

He stared at it. “Buffy?”

“Tired, remember? We can talk all this through tomorrow.”

Spike blinked, then stood up, choosing not to take the offered help.

When Buffy reached past him to take out the plug and start running a new bath, he shied away, moving towards the door again.

“You don’t have to,” said Buffy. “Go, I mean. You don’t have to stay, either.” She paused. “What I mean is, it’s your choice.”

“Choice?” repeated Spike.

Voice devoid of any kind of double meaning or strong emotion at all, Buffy said, “If you want, you can stay. I need someone to look at my back.”

He blinked again, as if she’d started speaking in a foreign language and he was trying to figure out which one.

“You can say no,” Buffy continued, “And I’ll understand. But, I think I’d like it if you cleaned the wound out for me.” 

His weight shifted and eyes dropped again. “You might not want…” he began, trailing off.

“Spike, what is my body saying?”

“You’re hurt.”

“What else?”

“You need rest.”

“I do need rest,” Buffy affirmed. “Look, my words and body agree. Will you help me?”

He nodded and she noticed his hands were shaking. Buffy took one of them in her own and said, “You offered me a truce, once. I’m calling this a neutral zone. A safe space. And I will tell you if things get too much, okay?”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he vowed, the words lacking all his usual confidence.

Buffy actually found that she missed it. “You have to tell me if it’s too much for you too, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, his eyes daring to leave the ground and focus somewhere around her shoulder.

“Okay,” said Buffy. “If either one of us has an issue – any _more_ issues – we say ‘safe,’ and things stop.”

“Buffy?”

“I’m only asking for help with my back,” she clarified. “That’s all, for now. But….” She bit her lip. “For what it's worth, I trust you.”


End file.
